Amber Hilted Dagger
by TheLadySong
Summary: Elsha Creshan's life spans the length and width of her home city of Berat and the Rogue within it. Her life changes drastically when she is betrothed to a Rogue in Sarain and discovers the world outside Berat, as well as in, can be dangerous
1. Prologue

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A shadow passes through the window. Half-seen, barely more substantial that dust and starlight, with a wicked grin.

The shadow sees rubble; a rush-covered floor, a dying fire. A man groaning in his sleep as his wife patches a poultice over his chest, forgetting to tend the baby in its rocking cradle, or the child shivering in her sleep.

The shadow stops, and hesitates; a ghostly hand looks over the baby once more. One that I should make my Chosen, perhaps? _The small creature sneezed, oblivious in her infantality to what was going on. _A close choice, but…_ With a sigh, the shadow waved a hand dismissively. _Not this one. She hasn't the destiny the other one did.

__

And with that, the Crooked God left, and went westward.


	2. Part One: Berat and Udayapur Chapter One...

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The Amber-Hilted Dagger

A Steelsings Tamora Pierce Role Play Character Story

Disclaimer: The world of Tortall belongs to Tamora Pierce. It is hers completely. Everything in Part Four ('Corus') actually happened under the guise of the Steelsings Tamora Pierce Role Play Club. (see the last chapter in this story for information and contact info for the cast of characters).

Part One: Berat and Udayapur

Chapter One: Rogue's Daughter

Time passes. It always does, wearing away, healing scars and opening wounds, turning men of youth into wrinkled cripples, and small children into young adults. The passed-over baby had, in time, grown. Not fully, yet, in heart, mind, or body; but she had grown. Learned to walk, to speak, to survive in the world around that hut. When she was five, they had moved out of the hut and into a small house next to an Inn. Even though she hadn't known it, her father, a thief, had risen in status quickly. In one quick spar, Ler Creshan had become the Rogue of Berat.

She was fourteen the night that Gem got her first scar when, dragging her friend into the Wandering Bard over her shoulder, her father grunted for her. "Elsha!"

She prayed he hadn't been on the brandy tonight, though the prayer was in vain. No matter how gentle he was sober, Ler was a dangerous man drunk. She walked over to stand beside his chair. "So, wench! Where's my pay, or did you manage to injure the other two while you were at it?" Malice glittered in his eyes.

She looked close to spitting on him. Time- time would show him that she wasn't a useless frivolity. From the inside of her shirt she took a small dagger and threw it. It landed not half an inch from where the ball of his thumb rested on the wooden tabletop.

"There." The dagger was about six inches long, and slightly curved. The small diamonds set into its hilt didn't seem to upset its balance at all, because the aim was perfect. If only she had the nerve to aim at his hand itself! She turned on her heel. His voice stopped her.

"But where are your manners, Elsha? You should be more mindful of yourself." She spun, and for the first time noticed the new person beside him. Usually the place at his right hand was reserved for the Queen of the Ladies of the Rogue, of the prostitutes, flower sellers, and the odd informant, but this time was different. A man stood there, covered in travel dust but clean. Clean, and clothes like his fine wool, meant money. What was he playing at? Merchant association had never been his style. Rob 'em blind and never let them see your face, or so it had been. "This is my daughter, Elsha" he told the stranger 

The man looked her over questioningly. Cool eyes, a guarded velvet-brown - it was hard to tell by light of the fire - were calm, serene. A dusky brown, calloused hand took her own and shook it cordially. "My pleasure."

Elsha bobbed her head in a quick curtsy and began to turn away again. Once again, her father spoke. "Elsha, sit down. Talk with us." This was oddity. The way he barked at her, she had half a mind to hide to avoid being beaten. What had changed his mind so quickly? She slid into a chair on the side of the table nearest the fire.

Her father leaned forward. "Tell us," he said, speaking amiably, "What happened tonight."

She should have known. If her wanted to parade her inadequacies... two could play at that game. She folded her hands.

"We got into the house fine. Gem took care of the rear guard, where we got in. I sent Mist out to the front. He took some convincing." Elsha paused to sip at the beaker of cider that a serving girl put in front of her. "He gave the all-clear and we moved in the back. Gem went up to the roof to check. Mist took the door. Sil moved into the armoury and took the knives. That's where your tenth came from." He nodded. He ruled these people, and of every theft in Berat he owned a tenth. "I was halfway into the lock on the safe when we heard a tussle downstairs. It was a Watchman. Mist wandered off. Gem noticed 'im and dropped on 'is head. There was five more down the street. We had to run. Mist's still out there, we couldn't find 'im, and Gem's gettin' patched up by one of Rue's girls, a healer. I got Sil to lay a ward on the place, so them sniffer-mages can't find us back 'ere."

He nodded sympathetically. "That does happen. I shall have to speak with Kayleb." Elsha gave him a glance, but the rich stranger was where her attention was. Through the whole telling, he had watched her intently. Those eyes never blinked, and it made her nervous. It was only hard training and rigid self-discipline that kept her face smooth and attentive, her voice calm, words measured.

The silent man spoke. "An odd girl. Not even a woman, and a leader already. Yet even though her manner shouts of defiance, she defers to her father." Elsha looked at him, almost a glare. Admirable as his perception was, a flapping tongue like his would lose her an ear. An odd man, indeed.

His look should have grown frost on the walls. "Defiance indeed. Mind how you speak, Elsha. You're a little girl yet."

Something glittered in the thirteen year old's eyes. "A little snake bites as much as a big one, father dearest."

The stranger chuckled. "A street cat and her father scrapping in the street." They turned almost identical glares on him, realized what they were doing, and stopped.

Elsha bit the inside of her cheek. "Do you have another reason for keeping me here, or may I go?"

Her father's eyes were beady; he almost looked like a scavenger rat. "Elsha, this is Alaric Fletcherson; he leads the Rogue in Udayapur." Elsha inclined her head, her mind racing. "As you know, your welfare has always been of utmost importance to me, and I always ensure that my daughters are well looked after. I've thought the two of you would make a good match."

Elsha bit the tender part of the inside of her mouth again. She should have seen it coming. Her courses had been strong for almost a year now, enough for her to be certain that she had the weeps the week before them every single time. Of course, she'd always reckoned she'd be married off to a boring grain merchant, like her sister, Allie, had. If she were betrothed to a king-

-that would make her Queen of the Rogue.

A position that might benefit Elsha nicely.


	3. Chapter Two: Teachers and Students

The Amber Hilted Dagger

Part One: Berat and Udayapur

Chapter 2: Teachers and Students

Elsha heaved, trying to regain her breath as Gem took a turn at the single pell standing in the inn's practice yard. Exhausted hands clutched her practice daggers wearily. Dawn was the only time the two girls could get a try at the often busy yard. The only females active as thieves in Berat's entire Rogue, Elsha and the orphaned K'mir were easy to ignore. The only other women in breeches Elsha had seen in the whole of the city were the warrior-priests of the Temple of the Daughter of the Fields, and a single freelance thief named Eremin.

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So what if they think girls aren't good for anything? Elsha crossly tucked a stray wisp back into her bun. _In Tortall they have a lady knight, and a girl who's a page, and the Rogue of Corus is a girl, too._ When her travelling cousin, Sol, had brought back stories of a girl named Emily who ruled the city's underworld, Elsha's almost-destroyed hope had buoyed up again. It was that hope that had let her resist her Mother's attempts to send her to a Convent to be trained as a priestess to the Goddess.

"Up early, aren't you?"

Alaric's voice startled Gem twice as much as it startled Elsha. By some innate sense, Elsha knew when someone was near, and it had been her choice to ignore the- she had thought- fellow Rogue come to taunt the "she-thieves". Turning, she could see that the dark-skinned Rogue was dressed for weapons-practice himself. _After a full ride from Udayapur yesterday, he's up bright and early. Dear me._ She still wasn't sure how to act around her new betrothed. "Good morning, Alaric."

He returned her lukewarm greeting with a smile. "I thought you two might like some company," he said, "and maybe help on your techniques as well."

-------------

An hour later the two girls straggled out, feeling thoroughly beat. The sun broke over the city rooftops as they both retired to the Women's Parlor. "You're sure you want to get married to that monster?" Gem asked in her native K'mir.

"He's not a monster. We're just not used," Elsha sighed, "to being run around the ring like a pair of babies with butterknives."

"I still say he's a monster, no matter how handsome you think he is. What do you want to do today?"

"Didn't you promise your sister you were going to be Duke Roger, so she can run you through with a stick again?"

Gem winced and Elsha hid a grin. Kimri was a six year old piece of energy on legs. "Remind me never to insult your chosen people again." Brightening, Gem added, "But you said you'd play the thief queen. You're not getting off that easily."

As if queued by a script, Kimri bounced into the room brandishing a whippy willow "sword". With a quick glance at Gem, Elsha dodged around the child into the common room, with Gem's shout of "Coward!" coming from behind her.

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The Silver Orchard was doing bustling business for a Starsday morning. Merchants discussed their business over cups of the proprietor's renowned wine. Latticed windows, freshly painted an aquamarine blue in accordance with the summer sky, allowed fresh breezes to make their way through the common room, and afforded patrons a view of Berat's busy market.

Alaric glanced across the crowd over his cup of wine. Droplets of condensation beaded the glass, running onto his hand when he took a drink. Ler was lost in thought, surveying the crowd below. Ler Creshan. Now, here was a man to ponder. Obviously uneducated, and none too bright in the first place, only with enough wits and skill to rule by fear. Not the type for politics such as Alaric faced daily. Udayapur was an entirely different city from Berat, one where law had stood on its head long enough for the formation of Thieves', Assassins', and Mercenaries' guildhalls. The Rogue operated independently from all three, and swung its own sort of clout- if you worked with a guild, somebody would hear about it sooner or later. The Rogue paid no recompense to its victims if a mistake was proven. When mothers threatened, "Stay out late, or the Rogue will get you," They meant it. The Rogue did.

__

So what is an ethical thief doing ruling the lot? He smiles and took another sip. A white from northeastern Tyra, if he didn't miss his guess, and he barely did. He remembered the food from his home ground-

__

That stung, didn't it? A voice in his mind, like a buzzing gnat, bit at him, then skittered away before he could slap it. He was five when he left Tyra. Son of a lawful mercantile house, fletchers, true to their name, his parents had been overjoyed when their second son left for Shang. _So much promise…_ He didn't return to Tyra when, after two years of training, his carefully hidden Gift came out into the open. The stowaway was turned out of a trader's caravan when they unloaded at the Port. It was shivering on a coil of ropes in the docks when, akin to the old wives tale, the Rogue got him.

Blur. That's all those years seemed to him, a blur. Snatched off the coil, cooed and petted over by the Ladies of the Rogue, sent to steal a few purses with the promise of bread hanging after it, learning how to steal in earnest. Things only came back into focus the year he turned seventeen. The cold, calculating young assassin that Ava Perl finally tracked down was nothing like the mischievous scamp that was turned out of her care at Shang a decade earlier.

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It wasn't your fault she cared. It wasn't your fault she tried to find you. Another swallow of wine. It's too early in the day for you to drink, isn't it? _It isn't my fault that Tren decided to kill her. It wasn't my fault! Stop saying that it was._

After that untimely demise, he left Udayapur for a while.

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Freedom. After a week of hard winds, a calm, searing blue summer day was heaven itself. As the brightly-dressed crowd wended its way around her, Elsha prudently put her hands in her pockets, deciding not to disrupt their revelry by lightening their purses. _After being entirely trounced on the practice court by a man I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with, I could use some relaxing, non-Rogue time._ She had limited her personal arsenal today to a belt-knife, boot-knife, and a small throwing star hidden in her hair.

One stall offered the beckoning aroma of roasting sunflower seeds; the next had blown-glass sculptures displayed, throwing cheerful blots of coloured light onto the pavement. An old man played at a hammered dulcimer while his six-year-old granddaughter sang a K'mir folksong. Pausing at a fruitstand, she gave in to temptation and handed over a copper and a half for a slice of the year's first watermelon.

She looked around sharply. She didn't seem to be attracting much notice. The other lady thief in the city had set her sights on a velvet-covered merchant, obviously new, since he hadn't given over to the light silks, linens and cottons that Berat's warm climate demanded. A young man was being stalked by an even younger, starry eyed woman. Elsha ducked into a lesser-used alley to enjoy her snack in peace.

Scuffling in a doorway to her right meant a fight in process. Getting up from her lounging place, Elsha ambled across the street to avoid the fight.

That was her intent, at least. Elsha was halfway across the alley when a body flew into her, knocking her to the ground. The watermelon rind went skidding across the cobblestones as Elsha ordered her aching muscles to act, and do it now! She scrambled to her feet as another figure emerged from the doorway. "Get the wench!"

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Aha, she thought, feeling wise. _It's an attack._ Still slow from the early morning exercise, she pulled a small quartz pendant from her neck, pulling the stone from the setting and tucking the stone back into her pocket. Her attackers were baffled by this move, but as she yanked her belt knife out, Elsha prayed that another Rogue would be close enough to respond to her setting off of the alarm-spell in time.

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Alaric was rudely interrupted from his broodings when Ler jumped, as if stung. He watched in fascination as the other Rogue fished a small crystal from his pocket. Pursing his lips, Ler peered into its depths, scowling. "Elsha's been jumped. Not far away from here, neither. Just," he looked out the window for the location, "there. Three men." He pointed a finger in the direction. "She set off the alarm, so she's in trouble." Ler made ready to leave, his haste belying the usual scorn for his daughter. Try as he might to convince Alaric that the only of his offspring he cared about was his single stillborn son, he still cared for Allesandra and Elsha- when he was sober, that was.

Alaric put out a hand to calm his colleague. "I'll go help her. Don't attract notice, and I'll be back in a wink." Swiftly, he left the winehouse and could be seen threading through the crowd below.

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Things were looking grim by the time Elsha got the dagger out of her boot. It was a combination of monumental luck and stupidity that had her most accessible knife in the chest of one of the men. Desperation pounded through her head as the other two circled her, chuckling. She looked up and down the alley, checking rooftops, and a flash of relief followed panic as she recognized Alaric. One of the men charged at the and mechanically she pivoted, then swept one leg out to trip him as she went by. She grunted in effort and he went flying.She moved to step back and- what was that?

The line of pain over her scalp, and black band across her vision, let her know; the third man meant to knock her out _Stupid! In a fight, never forget where all your enemies are!_She staggered, and Alaric swept the last man standing away with a punch. Before she could think, he pulled an arm aroud her chest, half- carrying her down the alley. Looking into a deserted room first, he pulled Elsha in and set her on the ground.

Elsha fought to breathe, and to keep from passing out. Her lungs weren't working properly "Alaric-" she wheezed haltingly. Every breath was a fight to fill her lungs.

He held her head up, and a small amber threaded his hands. "I've got you. Don't give up on me yet."


	4. Chapter Three: Handfast

Elsha's Story 

Chapter Three: Handfast

When Ler found them, Elsha was still asleep. Alaric moved slowly, trying to find a comfortable position against the stucco wall, Elsha's shoulders in his lap and her head propped against his stomach. Sweat beaded Alaric's forehead- his Gift always took effort out of him. One of his hands rested on her forehead, and the other was twined in her flaming hair. Panting with heat and exhaustion, he turned to his friend. "Help me take her home?" 

In the end Ler almost had to carry them both back to the Wandering Bard. Rue, the resident Healer, clucked in concern over Elsha, but pronounced that she would be fine with some rest. With a final effort, Alaric carried her to bed. 

------------ 

Alaric 

I can barely see her sleeping  
through my own exhausted eyes  
Watch over her I'm keeping  
This girl I think I should despise 

Is she a woman or a child?  
She is nothing in between  
She is a fighter, she is mild,  
and from everything I've seen- 

One look can pierce my armour  
if she turns her eyes my way  
If I care defend my honour-  
and if honour-bound, we lay- 

Hold your hand, don't touch her face  
try not to steal a kiss  
Much as you long for that embrace-  
Deny your heart! It has no place! 

Amid logic, amid reason  
Fold your hands. Pull up a chair  
to her bedside. Wait for the season  
when she is a ready maiden fair 

And until that time, defer.  
You are unready for her. 

-----------

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Idiot. Mynoss, Mithros, and Shakith. You know why you agreed to this in the first place when Ler suggested it- you reckoned on getting a daughter like the first one. Mousy, quiet, unassertive, feminine in every way. And you did want someone like that, admit it, why don't you? Absorbed with housekeeping and children, probably believing you when you told her not to ask what you did for a living. Well, Ler pulled a number on you with Elsha, didn't he, Alaric? A fighter, thief, most likely an assasin- Gods! Healer training and most likely loyal to the point of insanity. After all, it would make sense. She probably grew up with that sort of Rogue propaganda. And all of a sudden getting married makes you terrified. 

Because this won't just be a docile wife. Elsha is a threat to you. You could fall in love with her. 

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Alaric was asleep in his chair when Elsha woke up. Propping her head up onto rough-woven pilows, she took her time to get her first real look at him. His was the sort of face you could look at for hours and still come away feeling you hadn't seen enough. Not greatly handsome or anything. Just- fascinating. Jet hair, mussed and untidy from the fight. His face had a full, square jaw, and his face was a consistent soft brown like the chocolate occasionally brought in from Galla and Tyra. 

__

He's still an enigma. A person could spend their entire life trying to figure out what drives him. And maybe, Elsha reflected, _I will._

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"I think that's settled, then," Ler commented to the bright summer sky, "and I consider the business closed. When do you plan to take her home with you?" 

Alaric gazed warily at Elsha's dowry as it was packed into a cedar trunk. With a forcible effort, he made one thought follow the other, out of the depths of his muddled brain. "I think the day after next, if you wouldn't mind shortening the handfasting period at the temple. We will come back next year for the wedding, of course. I just don't trust my Regent for too long, is all." 

Ler chuckled. "I know the feeling, my friend." 

"How is Elsha taking all this?" 

"Oh, fairly well. With typical Elsha spirit." 

"I think I should be afraid." 

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"Why are you taking this lying down, Elsha? I thought you were going to be a fighter. A queen like Emily. Not just somebody's wife." 

Elsha tugged the flap of her saddlebag closed. "You don't understand, Gem." 

"No, I don't. You're letting your father rule your life!" 

"I'm letting Alaric rule my life. There's a difference." 

The K'mir snarled in disgust. "You're just letting a pretty face rule your life. Smart, Elsha. Smart." 

Elsha glared at Gem. "What do you want me to do? Run away and make a break for Tortall? With every Rogue between here and Tusaine knowing who I am? I'm getting married to someone decent- a marriage which is going to make me Queen of the largest Rogue netween here and the Roof of the World." She glanced into the stableyard. "The horses are ready. Gem, you're just angry that I'm leaving. Come on, Mist was going to introduce you to the lady thief he knows. And I'll write to you. I still remember enough of my K'mir characters, or I can pay someone to write something in Common. Alaric is going to teach me how to read when I'm older." 

Clumsily Gem got off Elsha's bed and hugged her. "Just don't forget your friends in the big city, all right?" 

"I promise. Now, let go. They'll ride off without me." 

------------ 

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Goddess, Mithros, bless us here, let these chains be loving bonds...

At long last, Elsha stepped away from the altar. Her head swam, and she had to gasp for air in the stifling chapel. She gulped against the bile that these hot, humid days seemed to bring on. Stopping, Elsha pressed her hot, sweaty forhead against a wonderfully cool granite pillar. 

Alaric stopped beside her and raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Finally he exited the chapel without her. At length, a deacon touched her elbow and gulping, Elsha followed him and exchanged layers of heavy crepe skirts for golden-brown breeches and a linen shirt. Breathing more happily for the change, Elsha left for a side courtyard. 

Alaric and her father were almost finished replacing their weapons. A white-clad novice returned Elsha her weapons, and before the young man's astonished gaze she strapped on every boot-, belt- and throwing- knife she owned, and cinched the lacings on her boots and breeches. Alaric and Ler leaned against the wall, having finished themselves. 

Her throat constricted suddenly, and the red handfasting band around her forearm seemed all at once too tight. _Breathe,_ she reminded herself. 

She looked up to see her father leading a horse. He gave her a leg up. "See you in a year, gel." 

She nodded tersely, and tugged her horse around. 

Ler put a hand on the neck of Alaric's mount as his friend mounted up. "Don't worry about her. She just needs to settle down some. Give her a good slap and she's rather pliant." 

Elsha heard this and shuddered, eager to be at the gate and away. _Thanks, father. That's an auspicious start, and no mistake_.


	5. Chapter Four: Larger Lessons

Amber Hilted Dagger

Chapter 4: Larger Lessons

The sky and water mirrored each other over Udayapur's harbour, both the troubled dark blue of the sea before a storm. The fresh breeze offered cooler air, relenting the humid heat that turned Elsha's stomach, and blowing the smell of spices and pork out of her nostrils.

It was a shame that she would have to get back inside when the storm broke; already she could see anxious vendors pulling their carts under cover. As a girl, the lightning always frightened her, but Sarrain's electrical storms gave her a release and freedom that she rarely felt elsewhere.

The view from the villa's top balcony was excellent; near the western gate, Elsha could see the entire city stretched out before her. Brightly tiled roofs, pleasure gardens, banners and temples were a vista unrivaled almost anywhere else in the Eastern Lands. The oncoming storm cast a dark wash over the scene, chasing K'mir and lowlanders alike out of the street, scurrying like brightly coloured ants. The coming wind brought whiffs of scent to her; cooking rice and dumplings, the last strips of meat being handed out by diehard stall owners before the storm broke.

"You'll catch cold."

She had known Alaric was watching her from the doorway for quite some time; he did that sometimes, and she would look up to find a half-measuring glitter in his eyes, looking like a man who wants something but is not sure he could take it. Sometimes she knew what those glances meant, and she was not sure if she liked the feeling, or not. 

One hand poised on ironwork of the railing, she looked around, the wrought iron digging into her legs. "You just want me off this balcony. I'm not going to fall off."

He didn't move, but acquiescence entered his eyes. "Will you come down?"

Reluctantly, she got off the balcony and bade the storm silent good-bye. Alaric shut the balcony doors after her, and led the way downstairs. The house was a quiet one; the woman Alaric hired to cook stayed in her room on the ground floor, or with her son, when she wasn't in the kitchen. A small brazier warmed the sitting-room that they retired to. It was an odd one, littered with books, weapons, and papers. Elsha picked up and awl and a pair of wristguards that she had forgotten to mend before dinner, but set them down again as she saw Alaric standing by his desk. The uncomfortable expression in his eyes made her curious.

"I got this from the Guild today," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I thought it would be appropriate, seeing as you'll need it, soon." Elsha stepped toward him cautiously. And stopped as he pulled open a desk drawer and handed her a knife.

Elsha was silent for a moment, studying it. The pommel was an amber, nearly an inch in diameter, but streaked through with darker orange. The swirling colours in it reminded her of the clouds in a storm, frozen and crystallized for the rest or time. Her thumb traced across the silver holding the gem in, and moved down the wire hilt- a sign that he would still allow her to work as an assassin, something she hadn't had the temerity to ask him yet. She read the jeweled signs on the hilt like a scholar might read a book, or, more accurately, like a noble might read tabards of state. The twisting design along the crossguard indicated a high position, which, she belatedly remembered, fit her. "Thank you. It's beautiful." She looked up.

The expression was back on his face. Setting down the knife, Elsha caught his eyes. His face didn't change, and she could read expressions from a usually unresponsive mask.

__

He is afraid of me. Quietly and slowly she reached for his hand, feeling that if she were to make a sudden noise he would bolt, like a deer.

"What are you so afraid of, Alaric?"

-----------

Her voice startled him. It was low, and almost soothing. Elsha- a girl of thirteen still, though sometimes he could not believe it, was asking about his fear.

__

Fear? What do I fear? A weakness, and something I have no place for in my life. Something that destroys me and the people around me. His eyes refocused. In the dark, her green eyes looked almost black. Too young and too old; she was more than he could really understand. _But I am afraid of her. She knows that. Understands that. Fear destroys the people around me._

For two weeks travelling, and two weeks in Udayapur, he had kept her at arm's length. After the day of her attempted kidnapping in Berat- something his detractors paid for dearly- he'd endeavored not to touch her. Too many things could go wrong. _It doesn't matter how old she is inside. I'm twenty years older than she is._ They were only thoughts, though. Thinking would not banish the hand wrapped around his.

A cautious whisper interrupted his thoughts. "Alaric?"

__

Fear destroys the people around me. I cannot be afraid.

He raised his other hand to her face, and touched his mouth to hers.

------------

The kiss was gentle and unexpected. His left hand brushed her cheek and tilted her head closer to him. Breathlessly Elsha followed the touch, and firmly pushed uncertainty out of her mind. Her hand deserted his to twine around his neck. Words- there were no words. No thoughts, nothing. Simply touch and feel.

The kiss broke a dike that had grown in their silence. Unable to hold back or call a halt, touch and feel took her over. He lead, praying that she would follow, and she followed, hoping that he would lead. The storm disappeared into oblivion as he picked her up, begrudging the moment without a kiss, and took her down the hall to his room.

-----------

__

There are things I cannot say. Things that I cannot express. Silence has been a part of me too long for my mouth to open easily for words to spring out.

I shan't think of her as a child ever again, because she isn't. She is something too delicate and pure on one side, and on the other, she is too cynical and world-weary, too inured to silence. Barely a sound, out of her. Too many nights hiding on a rooftop breathing quietly for her to make noise. Just small ones- things that finally did slip out.

Ler, what made you raise your daughter like this? What possessed you to strip her of emotion, like you would a boy? Surely you were not afraid of her like I was. Afraid of your daughter for what she could be. Perhaps you were just afraid of loving her like you would the son that you and Selen lost. Your eldest, no one could ever love wholly- there isn't enough of her there. Of Elsha? Too much.

I remember your words on parting- Ler, did you really beat her? I am watching your daughter sleeping now, and the river of red hair falling across her back does not hide a thin scar across your shoulder, running up the back of her bare neck. Did you put that there? How did you find the courage? She infuriates me, sometimes, being headstrong and stubborn and stupid that she is, but I couldn't beat her. I never will be able to. When it counts, Ler, she knows who her king is. She will listen to you. And if I ever rose a hand to touch her… I wouldn't be able to beat her. Somehow it would turn to what we just did…

This is some proposition you got me into, my friend. Some proposition indeed.

Not being able to help it, Alaric leaned over to kiss the small scar on the back of Elsha's neck. She murmured something in her sleep, and he laid back down on the pillow, joining her in sleep.

------------

The morning was clear and cool when she woke up, the world washed clean with rain. Blinking at a dawn sky through an unfamiliar window, Elsha tried to orient herself.

Alaric ran his hand over her arm again, reminding Elsha what had woken her up. Sometime during the night she had moved from sleeping on her stomach to curling up on her side, leaving her back to him and facing the eastward window. The immediate intimacy of being with him dawned on her as her rested his head on her neck, whispering into her ear. "Time to get up soon."

With a small groan she turned over. Alaric drew back onto his own pillow, watching her. Carefully, she studied his face. The fear was gone, or diminished, at least. Something told her that the fear was something that wouldn't be going away soon. _Give him time._ The thought made her feel older than he was, for a moment.

He put a hand on her cheek, and she let it rest, basking. The urge to sleep again, her exhaustion, battled with her normal habit of getting up early and a desperate need to use the privy.

She got up slowly, stretching out arms and legs leisurely. Alaric was finished dressing by the time Elsha had climbed out of bed.

Distantly, a temple bell chimed in the city. Alaric kissed her, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Good morning, Elsha."

She smiled back at him and sighed as he shut the door, closing her eyes for a few minutes. Feeling a trifle more rested, Elsha pulled on Alaric's dressing gown and trooped off to her own room to find clothes.


End file.
